


Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

by bigbidumbass



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quiet Sex, cooke is barely there just mentions, cooke is tom's roommate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbidumbass/pseuds/bigbidumbass
Summary: Will fixed Tom with an intense look, crawling back over to him, brushing his thumb against Tom’s cheek.“You can stay quiet for me, can’t you, baby?” he murmured, his other hand returning to Tom’s jeans, and Tom felt his breath stutter in his chest.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

Tom hadn’t much liked kissing until Will. Granted, that was probably because all of Tom’s ex-boyfriends were terrible kissers, but also just because Will had that effect on him. Tom was half-convinced that Will could make anything sexy, _anything._

Will was soft, gentle—he didn’t shove his tongue down Tom’s throat. He started off slowly, as if he were savoring the taste of Tom’s lips against his own. He had a habit of running his thumb along Tom’s jawline, of lacing his hand into Tom’s curls. Sometimes, during sex, he’d lightly pull on those curls, and Tom was too embarrassed to ever say how much he liked that. 

And he gave Tom time to breathe when they made out, pulling away to press tender, endearing kisses on Tom’s cheek, forehead, down his neck. It was the affection mixed in with love that really made it so enjoyable—Will made Tom feel so loved, even in his kisses.

And now, Tom couldn’t get enough of kissing Will. 

They were sitting on his bed, unashamedly snogging, with Tom clinging onto Will, pulling him closer, as if he wasn’t already practically on top of him. Will broke away, a bit breathlessly, planting soft kisses down Tom’s neck, softly sucking the porcelain skin there in a manner that was bound to bloom into a bruise, and Tom let out a soft noise, moving his hand into Will’s hair.

Will returned to Tom’s lips, and he was just starting to nibble on Tom’s lips, fumbling with the waistband of Tom’s jeans, when there came the sound of a door opening and then slamming, and they both practically jumped off the bed in shock. Tom’s bedroom door was closed and locked, luckily, and Tom composed himself, taking a sharp breath.

“Christ,” he muttered, “That’d be Cooke. He’s home early.” He couldn’t stop the disappointment from slipping into his voice at having to stop, and Will caught on, giving him a pitying grin. They sat for a moment, hearing Cooke release a stream of profanities—apparently, he’d stubbed his toe. Will fixed Tom with an intense look, crawling back over to him, brushing his thumb against Tom’s cheek.

“You can stay quiet for me, can’t you, baby?” he murmured, his other hand returning to Tom’s jeans, and Tom felt his breath stutter in his chest. 

“Yes,” he replied quickly, his breath stuttering in his chest, “Fuck. I can be quiet.”

Will returned his affections to Tom’s neck, nipping at the skin there, and Tom clung onto his back, vowing himself into silence. 

Will pulled away for a moment to grab the bottle of lube for a second, rubbing the liquid into his hand and slipping it into Tom’s trousers. Tom gripped onto Will’s arm, perhaps a bit too tightly, but if Will was opposed to it, he didn’t show it, continuing to stroke Tom’s cock. He was very quiet, listening to Tom’s heightened breathing as he started to form a rhythm

“F—fuck,” Tom breathed softly. He tilted his hand into Will’s neck, burying the noises he was making.

“Tom! Where's the Cheerios!” Cooke called, apparently in the kitchen now from where his voice sounded from, and Tom had to take in a deep breath. Will made no move to stop what he was doing, the bastard. Tom swallowed hard, begrudgingly pulling his face away from Will’s neck.

“Why would I know!” he called back, struggling to keep his voice even. “I don’t even eat them!”

He heard Cooke give a curse, rumbling through the pantry, and gave a sharp gasp as Will rubbed on a spot that felt especially good.

He panted hard, gripping onto Will’s back, digging his nails into the skin for a form of purchase, of release. 

“That’s it, baby,” Will breathed in his ear, “You’re doing so good, staying quiet for me.”

Tom _knew_ that Will was doing this to torture him, and he let out a soft whimper into Will’s sweater, muffled a bit by the fabric. Will noticed his reaction, and Tom could practically feel Will’s smug smile develop.

“Oh, my love, just keep being quiet, I’ve got you, you’re doing so well,” Will went on, and Tom shuddered. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, Will.”

Tom was nearly gasping with pleasure, and Will started to sloppily suck down his neck— it would certainly be a sight the next morning.

Pulling away from his lavishing of Tom’s neck, Will used his free hand to slip a finger under Tom’s chin, forcing eye contact between them for a moment, slowing down his pace as he stared into Tom’s eyes. 

Tom let out another whimper, but it was half-muffled as Will quickly pressed his hand over Tom’s mouth, quieting him. Then, suddenly getting an idea, Tom gripped Will’s hand, parting his lips and taking Will’s index finger into his mouth, lightly sucking. 

The smile that had been on Will’s face quickly dropped, his breathing picking up as Tom sucked on it, gazing at him as he added in a second of Will's fingers, then a third. 

“Fuck,” Will said thickly, then seemed to recover a bit. “Angel, I thought you were being good for me?”

“You don’t like it?” Tom asked, fingers still half in his mouth, pleased at the effect it was having on Will—his grip on Tom’s cock was much more flustered, his rhythm slipping a bit. 

Will stopped, removing his fingers from Tom’s mouth. “Oh, baby,” he tutted, “You know you’re being naughty.”

He returned his hand to Tom’s cock, picking up where he’d left off, and Tom’s cockiness depleted at the rush of pleasure from that.

“Tom!” Cooke called again, and Tom was half ready to go out there and sock him in the face, to tell him to shut up. _Fuck,_ he was starting to get close, and it was so good, so good, if Cooke could just leave him be-

“We’re out of Cheerios!” Cooke continued, “Will you pick some up from the store when you go?”

It was too much. Tom had to tap out on Will’s arm, and Will immediately stopped, letting Tom gulp down a few breaths.

“Fine!” he snapped at Cooke, “I’ll get your fucking Cheerios! Anything else?”

“Nah, that’s it,” Cooke replied. “Thanks, bruv!”

Tom waited a moment to hear if he was going to say anything more, and when there was only silence, he leaned back into Will, who kissed him before stroking his length again. 

“Right, I’m leaving!” Cooke yelled, startling Tom a bit. “Remember the Cheerios!” 

He heard the door slam after Cooke, and let out a sigh of relief that faded into a quivering moan, a feeble replacement of all the sounds he wished he’d been able to make. Will shot him a stern look.

“Who said you could make noise now, angel?” Will asked, and Tom’s breath caught in his chest. _Fuck,_ he thought, his cheeks going hot. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he said—it was all his brain could come with. 

Will didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his eyes on Tom’s as he kept jerking him off, the corner of his mouth raised in a smile that betrayed how smug he was. But when Tom bit back a whimper, Will rewarded him with kisses on his jawline.

“You’re mine, aren’t you love?” he asked Tom softly, “All mine, and such an angel being so quiet, You wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would you? Because then everyone would know what I'm doing to you. That you’re mine.”

Tom was shivering at Will’s words, so close, suffering so sweetly as he repressed the soft noises that threatened to escape him.

“Do you like that, baby?” Will asked him, and his expression had fully melted into satisfaction. “You like it when I’m taking you apart like this, with just my hand?”

“Fuck, Will,” he whispered softly. 

“What, love?” Will asked. “I asked you a question.”

The arsehole, to have told him to be quiet not two minutes ago and now to use his words.

“Yes,” Tom mumbled, burying his head into Will’s sweater, “Yes, _fuck,_ I like it. God, Will, you make me feel so good.”

Will kissed him much too tenderly, trailing down Tom’s neck, tugging Tom’s shirt off. It was halfway through Will kissing down his chest that Tom realised what Will was doing, and he was not in the least prepared for it, but God, if he didn’t want it.

“Will, fuck, wait,” he said, and Will froze, pulling away to look at Tom in concern. 

“Will,” Tom said, “I’m so close, I- if you....” He couldn’t finish his sentence, but he was very sure that the minute Will got his mouth on him, he’d be over the edge.

Will looked at him patiently, seeming to understand. “Do you want me to finish you off with my hand or my mouth?” he asked fondly.

“Fuck,” Tom said, because he didn’t want to have to choose, but Will was still waiting. “Mouth.”

Will nodded and returned to Tom’s neck, biting along the edge of Tom’s collarbones before kissing down his chest again. 

The small break they’d taken had composed Tom a little bit more—he was still grazing near the edge of a climax but not right on top of it now. But as soon as Will had taken Tom into his mouth, he was panting again, his hand locked in Will’s hair.

Will, ever the bastard, pulled away for a second with a devilishly teasing grin, and Tom threw his head back and let out a whine. Will took a little pity on him, returning to what he’d been doing, and soon Tom was gasping, coming, gripping onto the sheets as his back arched, breathing Will’s name with what little oxygen was left in his lungs.

When he’d come down a little from his high, he swallowed in a deep breath of air, his body still trembling.

“Christ,” he said, and Will pulled up for a kiss. 

“You were so good,” he praised, his hands resting at Tom’s hips. Feeling a bit feisty, Tom grabbed the belt loop of Will’s jeans and pulled him closer, fumbling with the zipper.

“Tom, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” Tom said, cutting him off. “Let me return the favor, won’t you? Let’s see who can be quiet now.”

Will’s lips drew into a grin.

“If that’s a challenge,” he said softly, “Then it’s accepted.”


End file.
